


pain and love, my darling, should not be synonymous

by visixns



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is a soft spring soldier you hear me, F/M, engaged vision & wanda, implications of natasha and steve but like super minor, life is good and everyone is recovering and alive ok, loki is alive too and no one can convince me otherwise, mindless fluff bc I'm sad and I need this, some comic references bc I can, they're so in love and they will live happily ever after :)))
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visixns/pseuds/visixns
Summary: Recovering after the Wars hadn't been easy, but they were more than willing to spend the time to grow and learn.aka a series of one-shots outlining the lives of a certain Vision and Wanda Maximoff as they navigate through their tangled days and nights, accompanied by the other Avengers (who are quite sick of trying their very damn hardest to push them into a room whenever they get into THAT mood). Not in specific chronological order!





	1. a social media crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Vision doesn't see the appeal of social media as much as Peter insists he should, but that's alright. He'll find his way around it eventually (aka Peter introducing social media to the Avengers and Vision's observations that follow).
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

In all honesty, it didn’t take long for Vision and Peter to get closer, the teen possessing the same innocent curiosity about him as Wanda did. Often times the boy would wish to go on walks and talk about the gist of life with the synthetic humanoid, the topics of conversation ranging wildly from girl troubles and schoolwork to the innate sense selfishness embedded into the human DNA. Vision greatly enjoyed these talks, a refreshing getaway from the crowded headquarters and a rather entertaining way to learn more about the youth and cultures of the day, all his questions met with enthusiastic answers by Peter. 

By the end of Peter’s stay (as the summer simmered to a close, the boy had to return to his Aunt in New York to start school at an institution dubbed “NYU”) Tony had begun to call the two of them his “little sons.” Not that either of the two were complaining, of course. 

And just like it was him that introduced Vision to more modern perspectives, it was also Peter who introduced the group to the world of social media (although Sam and Tony already had several, ever the hipsters) after weeks of begging Mr.Stark to allow the Avengers at least some autonomy over their personal lives. The interest stuck with a select few in the group, mainly the newer members who didn’t carry as much weight, both political and emotional, as they did. Sam and Rhodey both had what Peter called an “Instagram,” an application with which account holders shared photos, and “Twitter,” where users often stated their state of being followed by a series of “threads” on self-love and the like. Peter only had “Instagram” (how did the word roll off his tongue so smoothly?) and convinced Wanda to open an account as well, even if only to browse the explore page for “funny and relatable images.” On the flip side, both Tony and Steve had twitters, the billionaire’s more popular and in use than the Captain’s, but in his defense, Steve really didn’t understand technology and had almost suffered cardiac arrest from the discovery of FaceTime. So obviously, his account collected dust over the months with only one or two “tweets” every blue moon about calling the public to political activism and nothing more, despite being verified and followed by millions upon millions.

“It’s just not my scene,” Cap had shrugged. “Maybe sometime in the future, but not right now.”

And although it all seemed mostly useless to Vision, he could never resist the happiness that bubbled in his throat whenever the other members wanted to pose with him or simply photograph him in the midst of rather domestic chores, the comments on the posts almost always being those of love and adoration. It made him happier to see the public’s response to his mundane self, and could see its effects on his fiancé too. Wanda’s confidence in both herself and her abilities increased significantly so after opening her Instagram (named @wndamxmff because all other variations of her name were taken) and seeing her melt into this comfort made him all the more happy and lovestruck. Oh, how his heart ached for her. 

Peter tried to convince him many, many times to join them, inevitably to no avail. As the salutatorian of his graduating class (losing the title of valedictorian to his girlfriend, Michelle) and the lead intern to the leading base in technology (Stark Industries), he had quite the reputation on the application, as far as Vision could see. Unlike his mentor, however, Peter never revealed his superhero identity in fear of putting his aunt in danger, but the photos of him posing nonchalantly with various Avengers in such cozy circumstances had been enough to raise his follower count to the hundred-thousands even before Steve’s or Wanda’s could. 

And while it’s a pill hard to swallow, due to the teen’s incessant begging (and his interest in following his fellow friends, though Vision would never admit) the humanoid opened himself an Instagram account. 

Begrudgingly he chose a username, a simple @thevision, (which for some reason was an available name) and posted the only photo of himself he had on his phone—one that Wanda had taken while he made her tea after a mission, his cape waving effortlessly in the still air. 

With Tony’s verification technology his account became a verified profile within seconds, Vision involuntarily wincing because now, it was known that this account truly did belong to him. Which, isn’t a bad thing, don’t get him wrong—Vision just would’ve preferred to keep his presence on social media private until further notice because the whole of the concept, while a beautiful thing for society, felt silly for him. Which Wanda, should she have been there, would immediately disregard because “you’re one of us too,” she’d say, “you’re a member of this society too, so why not be an active part of it?”

Almost instantaneously, the small number indicating his number of followers began to rise, and he sighed. Too late to turn back now, he supposed. 

So he turned back tothe phone in his hand, and set out to do what he meant to in the first place. Carefully inputting the usernames of his fellow teammates, he shot whoever had an account a follow, curiously inspecting the kinds of photos they’ve posted and their captions.

Both Sam and Rhodey’s accounts, as he had suspected, where filled primarily with photos of them taken either professionally or by friends, at the beach, in the office, in the training room, and just about anywhere else. They both gave incredible attention to looking their best for each photo, small quirks giving away their concentration on forming the most desirable pose. Vision liked a select few, and scrolled on. 

Unsurprisingly, Peter’s account was a lovable mess just like the boy himself, which was held together by a pretty pleasing aesthetic. The photos themselves were primarily taken on his camera, he could tell, and included original photographs of flowers and the New York horizon during the sunset. In several, his friends were centered, some framing MJ and others Ned, some of them group photos from his academic decathlon tours. They were all stunning, breathtaking pieces that came together to create a beautiful orange and canary yellow theme, and Vision’s mouth hung open until he read their captions. Then he almost burst out laughing—admittedly a very uncharacteristic thing to do. 

“When people say work until your bank account is a phone number but all you can see is $9.11,” a caption read, so wildly different and unrelated to the photo of a gorgeous tabby street cat. When he would finally understand todays sense of humor was way, way beyond him, and Vision moved to the next account. 

Next he delicately entered @wndamxmff and fidgeted nervously as the page loaded. And when it finally did, he felt his breath catch in his throat. 

The latest photo was one of him, his head against the headrest of her bed and a grey sweater on his chest—one he was wearing to please Wanda because he knew how much she loved seeing him clad in something so comfortable and homey—and a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face. Her left hand peaked in the corner just enough to reveal her ring, streaks of sunlight highlighting his jovial face and her outstretched finger. 

She was showing off the ring (and him), and if his heart worked akin to that of a human’s he’s sure it would’ve stop.

“To many, many more years, my love,” the caption read, and Vision’s eyes prickled with heat and the discomfort that he assumed accompanied tears. No one besides the residents of the headquarters knew about their relationship, holding back from making it public for the first few months at Stark and Captain Rogers’ request to avoid media coverage. And yet, she’d done it so fearlessly with merely a simple photo of his broken self. Vision swiped at his eyes to pull back to wet fingers; someone loved him so passionately that they saw it fit to reveal to the world their adoration. And he would rather have it be no one but his beloved Wanda. 

He inspected the photo more to notice the aesthetic of it, how his red skin was the only pop of color in the whole frame, the streaks of vibranium that he’d grown so self-conscious of illuminated beautifully under the golden hour sun. Vision remembered that day, a cool afternoon they’d spent wrapped in each other’s arms watching anything and everything that came across their TV screen. A blissful memory translated perfectly into the picture that she so sneakily took. 

He pressed the heart on the bottom left corner, his eye slipping to the time stamp—posted only three hours ago, yet cultivating over eight thousand comments and seventy thousand likes. A true feat only someone as amazing as his Wanda could accomplish. 

Most of the comments were a frenzied mix of what Peter had called “emojis” (or emoticons, as was more professionally known) and exclamations of excitement. Many of the rest were congratulatory, and he found himself smiling despite himself. Yet amongst the sea of support, a single phrase stood jarringly against the rest, a curt rejection of Vision’s humanity and a statement of Wanda’s poor choice in men (android, Vision numbly corrected himself) followed by a rather foul language about what he would rather do to the Scarlet Witch. A disgusting declaration really, and one that immediately made Vision become uneasy with displaced anger. 

That’s why he was happy to say the least when he saw that Wanda had, in fact, replied to the man. 

“He’s every bit of a man as you are, good sir, and a great Avenger to be around. It is an honor to be engaged to him. Thank you for your interest though!”

That had been the final step, a strangled noise escaping his throat in gratitude and love. He stood, phone forgotten on his bedside lamp, and practically ran out of the bedroom.

The common room was not far from where he was situated, and while it was an easy and quick enough walk, it dragged from minutes to hours by the erratic beating of his synthetic heart. Upon entering he could immediately see that there were four others in the room, Cap and Tony chatting on the table with coffee in their hands, Bucky and Sam watching a movie on the sectional. Wanda was seated between the two, eyes fluttering to his upon Vision’s rather dramatic entrance. 

“Vizh, is something wro—!”

He said nothing, half-walked half-jogged to her seat, and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her shoulders immediately rose in surprise but her stance didn’t falter, her arms quickly encircling his neck and pulling him further into the couch. One of his hands cupped her soft face and the other stood holding to the couch’s spine, keeping him from tumbling into her. How he could bend over so low was beyond Wanda but maybe if he fell, she wouldn’t mind his weight on her chest—

“I can’t watch the movie yall,” Sam groaned, very much like an annoying sibling, and pushed the two away. 

Yet Vision didn’t break, instead scooping under Wanda’s knees to hoist her up in a bridal lift. She gasped against his lips, her own lifting to a mischievous smile, and he practically ran back to their room with the love of his life in his arms. 

“I take it he saw the post then,” Steve murmured, taking a swig of his coffee. 

Tony laughed. “Didn’t know the robo son had it in him!”


	2. an avengers engagement party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the avengers prepare an engagement party for the two lovers, complete with a dinner party and many, many festivities, but what Wanda finds most enjoyable isn't the event itself (while that's very fun too), but rather the incredibly attractive outfit Natasha had somehow forced Vision into.
> 
> aka the avengers just want their lil babes to have a happy good ol' time, and are willing to go to some really incredible measures to make sure they achieve it.
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

“Natasha, this looks absolutely ridiculous and I feel incredibly uncomfortable.”

Vision hunched uneasily in the cold room, his arms awkwardly outstretched to his sides as the assassin circled him like a vulture. 

“No, you look _incredibly hot_. Wanda’s gonna lose it when she sees you.” Swiftly, she opened the neck of the rather tight button up shirt wider, stretching it nearly to his stomach.

“Natas—!” He choked.

“Oh I’m just teasing, calm down V,” she muttered before returning to her observations. 

Vision cursed his luck—if it were up to him, he’d be going to the event in a elegant suit (nobody could wrong with a suit), maybe sporting a nice tie and watch. If it were up to him, he would simply rearrange his molecules to create the clothing of his choice straight onto his body, a perfect fit and far more comfortable than the real deal (even though the button down and pants were, admittedly, smooth and cool on his skin, he still felt irritated). 

When Natasha had offered to help him “clean up,” Vision simply assumed it was with making sure he looked the best with his own choice of outfit. Had he known otherwise, he would’ve kindly declined because this was utterly unbearable. 

“Hm, turn around.”

He sighed, but complied wordlessly. 

“Maybe we should tuck the button down…” she thought aloud to herself, and that was the last straw. Vision turned to stare tiredly at the woman, and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“Why are we doing this again?” He asked, gesturing to the mess that was on him. “I do not see why it would be inefficient to simply create my own clothing, it’s not like I haven’t done it before—in fact Mr.Stark has often found this trait a relief and an asset whenever preparing for such events.”

If looks could kill, as the phrase goes, Vision would be dead on sight, for the glare that Natasha threw his way immediately made him shrink in regret, his arms dejectedly raising up to his sides. 

“Because,” she began, “if you knew half of the fantasies that Wanda has told me regarding your clothing, you would never know where to begin.”

Vision’s face began to heat up and he fidgeted under her gaze as she tucked in his dress shirt. 

“D-does she not find my choice of fashion enjoyable?” He won’t lie, that had hurt a little, but only a sting of embarrassment and disappointment that was quickly replaced by relief when Natasha spoke up again.

“Oh no she loves it, but she did tell me the other day that she would, and I quote, ‘die if Vizh wore something I could actually take off after the party.’”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” she grinned mischievously. “Now roll up your sleeves, you big softie.”

“To my elbows?” He asked hesitantly, a little more ready to comply with this newfound and quite imperative information. He’d store that for another day, another event, fingers already itching anxiously to feel the clothing slide off of his back at the mercy of his fiancé.

“Yeah to your elbows,” 

He did so and stared at himself in the mirror, the assassin standing next to him clad in a breathtaking black gown. 

“I think we’re done,” she mumbled. Yet still his expression held the slightest trace of tension, so she did up two of his buttons to lessen the gap exposing his red and vibranium chest, if only to sooth his anxiety a little. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, and found it easier to stand taller, smiling at his reflection even if every time he moved he felt the foreign brush of the clothing on his body uncomfortably. 

“Now let’s get going,” Natasha smiled up at the synthetic android and he offered her his arm and returned the warmth she gave. “Pepper and Maria are already waiting in the limousine and we shouldn’t keep them waiting,” she winked at Vision. “After all, we do have to get there before the others do.”

—

“Are you excited?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall of Wanda’s room, arms crossed and, just like all the other men in the room, in the finest suit he owned. 

“It’s just the engagement party,” the soon-to-be bride said as she sat on her bed. “And one that you guys arranged for us too, may I remind.”

She was in quite the situation really; with Sam working on her hair, pinning up certain straying strands and letting others fall softly over her face, Clint brushed her cheeks with the lightest blush, situated on a stool in front of the girl. 

“Still,” said Peter, who was excitedly hanging from the ceiling via a web. “It must be so exhilarating! It’s honestly gonna be so much I can’t wait—“

“Slow down kid,” Tony laughed, looking through a briefcase of jewelry that Pepper had given him based on what she suspected Wanda would like. “What about this one?”

Both Bruce and Thor looked up from the shoe collection simultaneously (they were hopelessly lost anyway, so if anything it was a relief to find something to look up for) and Thor grimaced at the cluttering red necklace. “Too much.”

“Figured.”

Wanda laughed from where she sat, adoration in her eyes and a red and white butterflies settled in her heart. “I’ll be honest, I never suspected that the six most powerful men in the world pamper me for my engagement,” 

Steve put his head on the wall behind him and his lips betrayed a smile. “Well this is how we do things the Avengers way, like it or not, young lady.” 

The room fell into a melody of deep chuckles, Wanda’s own voice jarringly light against the rest, which only increased her amusement. 

“I wonder how Vision’s doing,” Peter mumbled, now sitting upside down on the single sofa in the corner of the room (Wanda had to admit he had the energy of a sugar high ten year old, but she loved him all the same, a sibling-like and protective bond having been established between the two). “He’s gonna look so nice, I _have_ to take a pic of you two and put it on my Instagram.”

In the most old-man way possible (Tony’s words, not hers), Steve shook his head and sighed, muttering “kids” under his breath in the softest of tones. 

“And…done!” Sam leaned back from Wanda’s hair and grinned in accomplishment just as Clint put away his last brush into the make-up kit Natasha had lent him. “You know this looks great, if I do say so myself.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t toot your own horn, Wilson.”

She laughed again. In all honesty, she couldn’t believe that in all her years of suffering and torment and allowing herself to fall only to the bliss of a dreamless nights sleep, she finally found happiness—true, untampered and unfiltered happiness. 

“Shall we head out then?”

All the men, all _her_ men, nodded in unison, smiling wildly, and they were off.

—

When Vision and the ladies pulled up at the venue, there stood a line of reporters outside the entrance waiting to snap a photo or two of the practically-celebrity status couple. They were unsurprisingly unknowing of the things the other Avengers had planned (as was the couple), including the separate arrivals, but enthusiastically crowded around the limousine nonetheless. 

Natasha and Pepper came out first, a roar of “over heres!” littering the air as their dresses glittered under the simmering camera flashes. Maria stepped out after, looking less extravagant than the others but as elegant as ever, turning back to the limo as Vision himself prepared to exit. 

If you were to ask him, he’d tell you that this was all too much and that he would have preferred a quite get together with friends over this over-the-top party. He was already in a panic about his attire and now, as uncharacteristic as it may be, he was growing nervous about how the public would review his engagement to the Scarlet Witch herself. After all, he thought, she was much, much better a person (and actually a person) than he could ever dream of being. 

He remained lost in thought until Maria beckoned him forward, a reassuring smile on her face that immediately eased his anxiety. He mouthed a thanks, she nodded in reply, and he finally peaked out of the limo. 

The shouting shifted from loud to deafening as Vision’s shoes appeared from the door. Crowds of reporters pushed closer to get a view of his designer slim pants and, as he fully stood out of the vehicle, his sleek black (and very revealing) dress shirt. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Pepper shooting him a thumbs up before taking his hand to lead them over to where Maria and Natasha were posing for photos. 

“Hey Vision! You look dashing today!” A journalist called and he smiled warmly at him, bowing his head in appreciation. Another shouted a question he’d rather not repeat, but he simply ignored him. This was the media, and it was their job to see conflict where there wasn’t any, Vision knew. But this didn’t stop Pepper from throwing a menacing look over her shoulder. 

“Black Widow! There have been rumors that Vision and Wanda Maximoff’s engagement was staged as a tool to make the Avengers seem more likable in the midst of the devastating aftermath of the Infinity Wars. What do you say about this?”

With perfected patience and a venomous smile, Natasha answered. 

“That is false and simply a rumor, as Miss Maximoff and Mister Vision were in a relationship before the Wars.”

“Then why the secrecy? Hasn’t the Avengers hidden enough from the public already?”

“Because,” Maria interjected, “whether or not they chose to reveal their personal lives is a matter of individual interest and in no way connected to the Avengers protocol. We are only required to inform the public of any and all developments involving the superhero group’s endeavors to protect and avenge. Their personal identities are their own to say.”

The humanoid’s stomach churned uneasily as he felt Natasha’s grip on his arm tighten in support. 

“I believe it’s time we walk in,” Pepper announced and they turned to head into the venue building. 

Inside, there were more reporters who mingled together, but those that Tony had personally invited, and therefore trusted (Vision assumed). Many were dressed much more professionally and carried less equipment, here for both the entertainment and the story. One that recognized Vision moved closer, and shook his hand. 

“You look great, Vision,” he said, and again the humanoid nodded. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh no, my name’s Andrew. Would you mind if we have a few words regarding the event?”

Vision decided he liked these journalists much, much more, and finally relaxed for the first time in four hours. 

—

While Vision’s limo ride was spent in blissful conversation and soft compliments, Wanda’s was spent trying to calm down the yelling and half-arguing superheroes that sat before her. 

“Steve, letting Wanda get out first doesn’t even make any sense, what are you on man,” Clint rolled his eyes. “She’s literally the star of the show, she should be left to the end!”

“That’s exactly why she should get out first, Clint! I don’t know about this generation, but back in 1940 ‘ladies first’ was quite the popular—“

“Oh my god,” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “She’s coming last, and thats final. Now both of you hush and sit back.”

Thor laughed from where he was seated, and took of a sip of his ale. “The falcon man speaks truth.”

Before anyone else could say anything else (and Cap wanted to, better believe it), or—in Peter’s case—laugh at Steve’s offended expression, the limousine tires screeched loudly to a halt and a boom of voices made everyone within jump out of their skin. 

“I guess we’re here, then.”

Getting out and walking the carpet was easy enough and went by as a breeze, none of the boys letting the reporters ask anything too controversial or upsetting simply by standing tall and proud beside her five-foot-three figure. Giants protecting a princess, she thought, and it make her heart flutter to the skies—she loved them so much. 

It didn’t take long to finally walk inside the venue (with Steve’s gentle nudging to make sure they weren’t late), and Wanda observed the beautiful decor and breathtaking room with her jaw hanging open on its hinges. The tables were set perfectly, the ones closer to the makeshift stage reserved for the Avengers whereas all the rest had the name tags of various news stations. The small table at the very front, where she assumed her and Vision were to be, was decorated with streaks of red and black, seamlessly matching the room’s theme colors. 

“Hey Wanda! Want me to take your photo?” Peter asked, his cheeks raised in the most excited smile and his hands around his camera. “Or we could wait until you find Vision, if you like!”

Wanda’s smile faltered, intrigue replacing the blind happiness spewed on her face. “Where is he anyway?”

Peter shrugged. “There was quite the crowd back there,” he pointed behind him. “But that could’ve also been Mr.Stark. Anyway, I’m gonna go take some photos of the catering; I promised MJ and Ned some food pics. See ya!”

And off he went. 

Wanda took a moment to look around—mostly everyone was conversing with one another, laughter and raised champagne glasses rampant through the ballroom. Now if she could just figure out how to find Vision. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to. 

“Hello, my love.”

She nearly fell backwards into him, stifling a scream as he whispered into her ear. 

“Vizh! I’ve been lookin—“ she stopped dead when her eyes travelled to his exposed chest, crimson red and silver streaks coloring his complexion in wondrous contrast with the silk-like black dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and Wanda just about fell weak. 

“Are you wearing real clothes?” She whispered, her fingers hesitantly holding the lapels of his shirt. “Oh my god, you are! Aren’t you uncomfortable? You hate wearing real clothing,”

Vision chuckled in his deep, honey tainted voice and leaned to her ear again.

“For you, it’s okay to be a little uncomfortable for a bit.” He watched as she bit her lip and sent a silent thanks in Natasha’s direction, who was pointedly watching the two of them with a wink. “Besides, it’s better now that I’m used to it. And you, you look stunning, Wanda,”

Briefly, he allowed his lips to graze against hers, his fingers tracing circles to the open skin on her spine. 

“If you keep teasing like this, whatever’s on you won’t be intact tomorrow,” she sighed, voice catching. “Pity that it’s so expensive too.”

A pause. “Is that not the point?” Vision grinned.

She was about to counter when a spotlight fell on them and Tony’s voice introduced the first event of the night. 

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the engagement event of our very own Wanda Maximoff and Vision Stark. Now if you will please find your seats...”

People shuffled, cameras went off in the click-clack rhythm of shoes and Stark tapped the microphone again. 

“Before the food arrives and the festivities begin, I’d like to make a small toast for the two lovers,” When Vision looked up, he was surprised to find the engineer and businessman, normally the epitome of confidence, nervous. His hands were wringing underneath the podium and the humanoid couldn’t help but smile. “I think to begin, I should thank Miss Maximoff for taking such good care of our invention—it is because of you that he is one of the greatest Avengers we have, so full of love and life and nothing to give but his happy attitude. It is entirely because of you, Wanda, that he isn’t simply a Stark invention left to collect dust as another failed mission. You made him better than anything I could’ve ever hoped to be related to.”

A series of “awes” cascaded through the chairs and Wanda sank into Vision, her eyes watering slightly. For once, her heart didn’t clench in tired loneliness every time she looked over at the inventor. 

“And as for Vision, take care of her. She’s not only an asset to our team, but also an incredible woman and, if I dare say, friend. I wish you two happiness!”

After the toast, the evening carried on smoothly, the couple sitting with the rest of the Avengers for dinner with Peter constantly taking photos of them (all of them, really) with his camera. For once Wanda felt the world at peace with itself. For once, she fell comfortably into a bellyful laugh and smiled as far as her face would take her. Vision at her side would continually stroke her hand, their fingers intertwined on the table as he casually conversed with Clint (who was finally warming up to the humanoid, to Vision’s relief). Steve and Sam bickered away, the Captain turning to Tony for confirmation on some random detail of a particular adventure. Bucky, who had arrived after the paparazzi at the front left, sat quietly gazing over everyone, smiling happily. Along with him T’Challa and his wife Nakia made their quiet but welcome entrance, bringing elegance and style with small chuckles and raised glasses. On the other end of the table Thor and Natasha leaned towards one another,  joking and laughing, while Bruce happily high-fived Peter for getting into NYU.

For the first time in a long time, all was well. Truly, completely, well. 

“Are you alright?” Vision whispered, noticing her glossy eyes. She turned to him and if he could breathe, he would be out of breath at the softness that radiated through her eyes. 

“I’m just so happy, Vizh. So, so happy.”

He gripped her hand and brought to his lips, her skin soft and supple. 

“Here’s to many more years and many more smiles then, my darling.”

For a moment they were lost in space, hearts synced and eyes steady, and then it was broken by Tony’s voice echoing through the room. “Good evening once again, folks! I hope you’re enjoying your time thus far?” 

The crowd cheered.

“Good! Because now the time has come for the Avengers exclusive engagement games that we’ll be forcing our good friends and members to play whether or not they like it,” 

Wanda laughed despite herself as the Avengers, clearly having planned this portion of the night beforehand (and even rehearsed it, from the looks of it) and shuffled to the makeshift stage. 

“For those who are not familiar with this game, which I assume is everyone,” Tony joked, “The members on stage will split into two teams, Team Wanda and Team Vision. There are two buttons on each table, with either “Her” or “Him” on it. I will ask a series of questions regarding milestones in the lovers’ relationship, and whichever group guesses the right person who initiated that milestone will gain a point.”

Vision’s arms tightened around his fiancé (God, he loved calling her that) in amusement.

“On Team Wanda we have our very own Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Peter Parker.” With rehearsed confidence he paused for applause. When it died down, Tony continued. “On Team Vision, we have Thor, the Hulk, Falcon, and T’Challa of Wakanda.”

“Oh no,” she whispered, and felt the humanoid’s shoulders tremble in laughter. 

“Alright, first question! Who was the first to initiate the relationship?”

Immediately, both teams scrambled to discuss the question, before tapping their buzzer. 

“Both Team Wanda and Team Vision answer with: ‘Her.’ I think we should hear each teams reasonings before the real-deals destroy you guys,” Tony chuckled and the room boomed into guffaws. 

“Well Vision is usually afraid of obstructing her comfort zone, and probably just left it to her to start things off,” Natasha shrugged, and both teams nodded. Tony grinned knowingly (because he happened to pass by the common room when it unfolded) and turned to the duo before him. 

“And the couple says?”

Vision and Wanda simultaneously shook their heads, the Avengers’ mouths falling open in shock.

“What?” Sam exclaimed incredulously. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Wanda giggled. “He turned to me after one of our movie nights and told me that he ‘couldn’t help but feel certain warm emotions’ towards me that ‘surpassed niceties,’”

“Well we’re off to a great start! Off to question number two!”

The game went more or less how the two imagined—filled with shouting and bargaining and ‘oh I’m done with this game’s. The reporters were respectful enough to take pictures sparingly. Around midnight, Tony began to wrap up the event and the journalists closed in on the Avengers for final words and photos, promising a happy report in exchange for the enjoyable evening. Vision and Wanda themselves were pulled to the side to answer last minute questions, and then the party was finally pulled to a stop. 

In the quietness of just their friends, they rode back to the headquarters in perfected peace. Everyone was worn to silence but agreed to have a small night cap before retiring to bed, just to plaster this moment into each and every one of their minds. 

12:29 AM and all of them were sprawled and exhausted on the sectional of their common lounge, each nursing a bottle or a cup. The men had unbuttoned their shirts and undone their ties to finally breathe whereas the woman sat in their bare feet, rid of their heels and jewelry. Vision, quite ironically, had done the opposite, immediately buttoning his shirt to his neck upon reaching the headquarters and sighing at the comfort of formality. Wanda leaned on him now, a bottle of water balancing precariously on her lap. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, a lazy smile on her face as her fiancé ran his fingers against her bare arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. 

“Of course,” Natasha yawned from practically Steve’s lap, her head laid on the Cap’s thighs while her feet fell on Bucky’s. Tony was in the kitchen, fixing another drink for the group and simply nodded, a content expression befalling his face. 

“Diddo,” he sighed. “It was the least we could do. It’s finally time we stopped waiting for our big break and just, you know, went after it.”

“Wise words by a wise man,” Cap laughed, and let his head loll to the spine of the couch. 

“It was, indeed, a great party,” Thor mumbled, voice far less deafening than his usual volume. 

“Mhmm. What about you, Pete?”

The weighty head on Wanda’s shoulder remained silent. 

“Peter?” she peered over to notice that the young boy was already sound asleep and snoring softly, his hair shadowing his tired eyes. 

“I’ll take him to his room,” Vision stood, creating the que for which to disassemble the half-passed out people in the room. “I think all of us should get some rest. Thank you all again, for a phenomenal night.”

“Yeah no problem,” Clint slurred, falling in an attempt to sit straight. Wanda locked eyes with Vision, nodding to an unspoken agreement. 

“I’ll take care of them. You take Pete to his room,”

And so the humanoid stood tall and picked the little boy up, carrying him effortlessly to his room. When he had the teen situated and returned to the lounge, Wanda was leaning against the bar, everyone absent and a mug of tea cradled in her hands. 

“Should we head to bed too?” He suggested, moving to sit on the bar stool in front of her. She shrugged. 

“I enjoy the silence after a loud night,” her ringed fingers set the cup down on the bar with a loud _clank!_

“Anyway, it’s gonna be quiet enough after I’m done with you.”

Vision’s eyes widened with curiosity. “How so?”

“When I told you those clothes won’t stay intact by tomorrow,” she whispered, fingers already working to unbutton his dress shirt. “That was a promise, dear.”

The humanoid grinned. “I don’t think I mind, my love.”


	3. even an android can cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers begin to feel the emotional aftermath of the Wars, and come to the realization that they don’t have to go through it's raging storm alone. 
> 
> After all, storms only encourage tree roots to grow deeper.
> 
> (with appearances by Peter and Natasha, whom I both love immensely)
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

_Wanda couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t feel her body and yet pain radiated all throughout her tired bones, an echo of a “no!” reverberating through her hollow chest. Beside her knees lay a man of vibranium and crimson, his forehead grotesquely caved into his skull. She couldn’t feel her body and yet her fingers scratched at his chest, his face, his cold, empty eyes; all devoid of color._

_His entire body was drained of the exotic hues that she so dearly loved._

_Wanda screamed, or rather wanted to, but her voice caught in her throat, choking her to tears. From her lap, Vision’s face turned to hers and they beheld the chilling emptiness she feared would taunt her. Eyes blank, he whispered the words that she knew would kill her—wished, would kill her, if only so that she wouldn’t have to bear this suffering not a minute longer._

_How could you?_

_A strangled sob crawled from her mouth, her lips grazing against his in an attempt to quiet his rightful questioning. And yet he still croaked._

_How could you?_

_Stop, she whispered at him, begging, her hair cascading around their molded faces like a curtain of privacy. Stop, please, stop!_

_How could you?_

Wanda woke with a startled jolt, her entire body trembling violently. When she touched her face, her fingers came back wet with sweat and tears. As she slowly sat up on her (as much as her unsteady hands could take her) a familiar warmth embraced her shaking shoulders.

“It’s alright, my love.”

She remained quiet, instead looking over at the clock on their wall. In small red font, it read 3:19 AM, and unthinkingly her head lolled to the juncture of Vision’s shoulder and neck, the scent of fresh pine and peppermint a luxury to her tired senses. 

“I’m here.”

Every midnight brought the same heart-wrenching nightmare, a flash of the moment she saw his life (quite literally) drain from his body and yet every morning, when she opened her eyes, Vision was there all the same, gently peppering her face with soft kisses. This time was no different. 

“But what if you weren’t, Vizh?” Wanda was vaguely aware of her actions as her hands began to glow a muted red, only becoming apparent when Vision took them into his own free hand and laid kiss after kiss to her pale knuckles. 

“But I am. You should abstain from dwelling on painful ‘if’s’ when there’s so much that has changed for the better, Wanda.” 

The way he said her name, so full of adoration and love and always a hint of uncontrollable giddiness, made her heart dance with the butterflies that flew in her stomach. His shirt was soaked through with her tears but he didn’t mind, instead lifting his long fingers to frame her face in the gentlest of ways to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Rest now, love,” 

When she sighed, he pulled her closer.

“And know that in the morning, I’ll still be next to you.”

—

It took Wanda (admittedly) a few weeks to notice that, while Vision didn’t suffer from chronic nightmares like she unfortunately did, he had become more sensitive to sound and sudden movements, which, if she didn’t know any better, would be a small enough detail to ignore. 

But she did know better, just like everybody else that lived on the Avengers compound did. And as “inhumane” as Vision considered himself to be (wrongly, Wanda insisted), PTSD was a very, very human trait. 

And so she became more careful around him, avoiding spontaneity like the plague to not startle her beloved. When the others took attention to her actions, they caught on and soon Vision was wondering why everyone had suddenly become so gentle in their actions around him.

Not that he minded—if anything, it brought a peace of mind that he hadn’t had for a long time. Noise and motion, since the Wars, had been what he read was a “trigger,” something that made him uncomfortable when unchecked in strength. He tried his hardest to hide the goosebumps that traveled up his arms whenever his heart began to beat in that uneven and erratic way, but if Wanda’s increased gentlest was any indicator he hadn’t done a good enough job.

Vision just didn’t want to inconvenience anybody, and so he continued to hide his unease to his best ability. But soon enough, everyone was practically tiptoeing around him, and it was more irritating to see how much energy it took his friends to be quieter for his sake than his actual unease at loud sounds. 

With the intention of assuring the group that he was, indeed, fine, Vision walked to the full common lounge and took his usual seat between the Captain and Wanda on the sofa. Nervously wringing his hands together, the humanoid spoke up.

“I don’t, wish to be a bother, but there has been something I have taken notice to that I would like to discuss with you all,” he began, and everyone turned their heads to indicate their attention.

“Yes, V?” Natasha offered, curled on the opposite end of the couch by Sam.

“I—I apologize, for giving the impression that you needed to be more careful around me. I understand that you’ve all gone to great lengths to ensure my ease, and I, I’m fine. You needn’t disturb your own comfort for the sake of mine.”

Steve looked at him as if he knew something about the android that he didn’t, and it made him uncomfortable so Vision looked away, at the TV, at the small threads tearing from the cloth of the couch, at anything _but_ his friends.

“We’re all trying to get better,” he told the man of vibranium beside him. “And if there’s anything we can do to alleviate at least one of our members suffering if not our own, then by all means we’ll do that together too.”

Vision felt his eyes itch uncomfortably and for a moment he almost panicked, the sensation so irritating and foreign. His throat constricted and he made a sound somewhere between a sob and a surprised gasp, and Wanda’s arms encircled his waist as she muttered soothing words against his skin. 

Vision laughed incredulously at his situation. “I guess even an android can cry.”

—

It was sometime around midnight and the lovers were sprawled lazily on the couch in the lounge, watching whatever was on the TV with popcorn in their mouths and a blanket around their tangled bodies.

“You know, this movie is far more interesting than I originally thought,” murmured Wanda. “I think it might even be my favorite,”

_Cla-shank!_

Vision perked slightly from his position under Wanda’s shoulders, his eyebrows creasing around the Mind Stone embedded in his forehead, which cautiously glowed yellow. 

“Did you hear that?”

Wanda sat straighter, putting down the bowl of popcorn in her arms to decrease the volume of the television in an attempt to hear better.

“It’s probably just one of the others kicking something in their sleep,” she suggested, yet her expression mimicking that of her finance’s. 

“I suppose so—“

Crying. A quiet sound against the rapacious howling of the spring storm outside, yet so insistently _there._

“I think it’s coming from Peter’s room,” Wanda whispered, and without another word, they were off. Because as the Cap had said: if they were to suffer, they suffer together and if they were to recover, they did that together too. And so they jogged silently to his room, and sure enough, the sniffling had intensified in the air around them. 

She knocked on the door. “Peter?”

There was no answer, and she knocked again, louder but not enough to disturb the others. “Peter?” She called again. And again, no answer.

“Vizh, can you phase through and open the door?” 

He nodded, and glowed a soft yellow before disappearing behind the wall of his room. Seconds later, the door slid open, and Wanda joined him by the teen’s bed.

He was drenched in sweat and clutching the sheets, the small bandage on his stomach slipping from underneath his sweater. He was also muttering something, something about being sorry and Wanda’s frowned deepened tenfold, wondering what the young boy could ever be sorry for when all he strived to be was perfect.

Vision kindly shook his shoulder so as to not startle him. It took a few more nudges, but soon enough Peter’s eyes opened and he found himself staring at the two superheroes with both confusion and embarrassment, wondering not only how they got in but what they might’ve heard.

“I—I’m sorry,” his bottom lip shook, but the tears hadn’t stopped flowing and Wanda wasn’t going to let him finish his sentence. Instead she pulled him into a hug, Vision sitting on his heels on the floor and watching the boy’s shoulders rise and fall as he cried. 

As his eyes locked with Wanda’s he wondered how the sweetest and gentlest of people could suffer so much. He concluded that it wasn’t fair, and though nothing in this world ever was, Vision vowed he’d try his best to protect them to his last breath. If anyone deserved it, it was them.

—

Wanda often enjoyed walking around the compound at night, sometimes with Vision and sometimes alone, as she did now. It brought a peace of mind that allowed her to process her day more clearly, breathing in the refreshing scent of the hibiscus and basil plants on the terrance garden of the building. Normally a bird or two slept soundly by the greenery, but what she didn’t expect to find there that night was Natasha, who sat on the lounge chair with her legs against her chest, her arms encircling her small figure. 

“Nat?” She asked, and the older woman turned back to face her. Wanda wasn’t surprised to find her eyes red and puffy.

“Hello Wanda.”

She didn’t need to ask what the assassin was doing outside. Instead, she walked over to the small cabinet where Vision kept their blanket, and unfurled it around the Black Widow, wrapping her in bundle of warmth against the biting breeze.

“So is this what you two do up here all the time?” She joked, referring to the lover’s nightly escapades to the roof. Again, Wanda wasn’t surprised to find that the assassin had noticed. Nothing ever went past her. She smiled.

“Vision’s always afraid that I’ll freeze in the wind,” she explained, looking over the plants and the brightening horizon. 

“Well it does get chilly up here.”

“Yes it does.” Biting her lip, Wanda paused before continuing. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Natasha didn’t look over at the younger girl, but her lips twitched upwardly in kindness and the warmth of her camaraderie. “Not really, but if it’s any consolation, you being here helps.”

Wanda nodded in acknowledgement before scooting closer on the small seat, encouraging her friend’s head to rest on her shoulder. It was quiet after that, but that was okay—Natasha soon drifted to sleep, and when Steve found them early in the morning, he wordlessly carried her to her room after thanking Wanda (who simply shrugged with a soft grin). 

She stayed in the garden all through the rest of the sunrise, thinking about nothing in particular and simply enjoying the kisses the wind left on her exposed neck. One that was replaced by warm lips that she immediately knew were her Vision’s.

“Are you not cold, Wanda?” he questioned and she laughed in contentment, pulling him to sit next to her, leaning to his embrace.

“Not anymore. Besides, I gave Natasha the blanket last night while we were up here.”

He didn’t ask anything further and instead buried his head into her neck, so thankful that they were here, albeit broken, but ready to be whole again. 


	4. don't fret, my love, for I will always return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda wakes up for the first time after feeling her bones deteriorate to dust, and finds herself on the Avengers compound. In a cradle in the lab above her room, two scientists work to fix an android who feels too much for his synthetic heart.
> 
> aka Wanda and Vision's return :)) with some angst but a happy ending, I promise! And some other cute interactions with the other members and Wanda because I can
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

JUNE 10TH, 2018  
2:40PM EASTERN TIME

When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer lying on the cold grass in Wakanda.

There was a soreness that radiated from her skin to her bones, a headache that rattled her thoughts so strong that she momentarily forgot the disorientation of waking up in a foreign room and in a foreign bed. 

Quietly she hoisted her body up and pushed her back against the soft pillows that sighed under her weight. With a globe on the the table and a painting of unearthly origin hung on the wall the room looked so familiar yet so distant, confusion settling in her mind like a cloud. A guitar sat situated in the corner of the room by a stand, just as she’d left it three years ago, and she suddenly knew where she was.

The Avengers Headquarters.

Panic settled deep within her bones and in wild desperation she clawed at the bedsheets wrapped around her body, she needed to _get out of here, she needed to get out, get out—_

“Whoa! Slow down!” 

Wanda froze, her eyes trailing over to the door where Steve stood, worry etched deep into his forehead and hands ready to stop her from doing whatever harm she intended to inflict (to either him or herself). 

“St-Steve?”

Her old room and the sight of the Captain dressed so casually reminded her of the quiet and homely days before the Accords, before the Raft, before the war and before the chaos that came with a snap of blood-stained fingers housed within a glittering gauntlet. 

_Thanos._

It would be an understatement to say she became nauseated. Distressed would come closer still, but not quite cut it as Wanda writhed under sorrow tainted air. Turning over to the Captain again her breath constricted and suddenly she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fill her lungs with oxygen and her eyes glowed red with the sheer anger and panic that coursed through her veins like a cackling spark waiting to be ignited. 

And Steve? He was used to this, had grown accustomed to holding himself together as the world fell apart, used to drowning on dry land within the memories he kept so tightly held inside his battered heart. And so he was next to her within seconds, hands on her shoulders and gently coaxing her to look into his calm blue eyes, to follow him as he inhaled— _one, two, three, four—_ and exhaled— _five, six, seven, eight._

Slowly her eyes settled on his face and he felt the tension glide off her back like a blanket of tears. Sniffling, she set her head on his shoulder.

“Why are we here?”

Part of her didn’t want him to answer, afraid that logic would ripple the dream and she’d startle awake beside the caved skull of the man of red and vibranium, (his cold eyes staring lifelessly into her soul). Another part of her didn’t want him to answer because she was afraid that if he did, he’d admit that they were still fugitives, that the government—Ross—had simply been waiting for Wanda to open her eyes to drag them away again. With a tingle of intrigue she noticed that this time she wouldn’t survive the shock collar or the straight jacket for she had nothing left to survive for (maybe she would even reunite with Vision, her Vision, and it was all the more reason to embrace death).

“I think it might be best to ask what you remember last,” Steve began. Now that her eyes weren’t blurred with tears, she noticed how his unruly peach fuzz was trimmed (not completely shaved, she noted) and his hair looked much cleaner than the unkempt style she last saw. 

“I, I’m not sure.” 

Someone laughed from the yard, a playful, youthful sound that reverberated through the confusion in her mind. “I just remember Vizh laying on my lap and then, nothing.” 

Steve nodded, his brows creased. “Wanda…” She didn’t like the route his tone led. “It’s been, give or take, two months since then.”

Wanda stared blankly at the man before her and her heart fell a mile and half as guilt rose so high that she could feel the bile churn in her esophagus. How could she sit here and breathe and live when Vision, poor, sweet Vision, lay a heap on the ground of foreign— _Wakandan_ , Steve would’ve corrected—grass? 

“But, Vizh—“

“Is with Tony and Bruce.” he finished, arms already steadying her.

“And he, he,” she couldn’t think straight, and for some odd reason, Cap began to blur into a mass of uncoordinated color and light. “But he’s—”

“Going to be alright. Easy now, just get some rest.”

It was no more than three seconds later that she blinked out of consciousness. 

 

JUNE 13TH, 2018  
3:21AM EASTERN TIME

For Wanda’s entire life, her only wish had been to fall into undisturbed sleep. A slumber that wouldn’t jostle her awake in the wee hours of morning with an all too realistic image of twelve bullets penetrating Pietro, of the twelve minutes he would’ve been older than her had he been here.

Now she wished the nightmares would return, give her mind something else to ponder on besides the lingering kisses on her scarlet painted hands.

_“Are you alright, Miss Maximoff?”_

It was the ghost of his voice that pushed the tears over the edge, the soft, everlasting echo of the cadence of his laughter that wracked a sob through her body so strong that it lurched forward in an attempt to restrain her heart in her ribcage.

Howling. Wanda can barely remember opening her mouth and yet the rough and scratchy shouting was coming from her throat, torn with overuse. Her hands trembling at her chest she yelled, and it was only a fraction of the pain that shredded her insides. Only a fraction of the voice in her head dying to be let out and bury the planet under a mist of red.

She also didn’t take notice of the hands that wove around her shoulders and into her hair until it was too late to fend them off, until it was easier to let Natasha and Steve hold her than to fight them because it _hurt,_ it hurt so much and she had no energy to do much but cry in anguish. 

They weren’t Vision, but they were there. And Wanda couldn’t do anything but fall into their tight embrace, holding on to the memory of his fingers curling into hers in the dead of night and the way his voice tickled her ears when he whispered a deep _“I love you,”_ to her crying body.

_“Sleep, my love. And when you wake up, know that I will still be there.”_

She fell asleep that night hoping to see a nightmare, any nightmare, if it meant she could see his face again, alive and well.

 

JUNE 19TH, 2018  
7:55PM EASTERN TIME

She didn’t leave her room for nine days. 

Natasha often visited her, sitting quietly by her side on the bed and opening a film. The silent camaraderie meant mountains to Wanda and with every visit she found herself leaning further into her shoulder, deeper into crook of her neck seeking comfort she rarely sought with others. Sometimes Cap came too, always an unspoken greeting exchanged with Natasha in the form of the quirk of his lips before he settled to Wanda’s other side. She was sandwiched between two lethal agents and yet both wore grey sweatpants and a sweater, the complete juxtaposition bringing a rare smile to her broken face.

“Wanda, Bruce came to me today,” he started, and Natasha paused _Mulan_ on the screen (and in quite a crucial scene too, might she add). “He told me that,” Wanda could see his jaw flex lips purse as he contemplated the consequences of telling her but she knew, she already knew the next words that would leave his tongue and her body turned to face the Captain fully, eyes wide in hope and preparation. “That maybe, _maybe,_ they found a way to fix Vision.”

Wanda nodded. Natasha’s hand drew circles on her back and she simply wound her arms around Steve’s, sinking further into the head of her bed, eyes refocusing on the movie ahead of her.

Unbeknownst to the two Avengers beside her were the streaks of blue that trailed her cheeks.

 

JUNE 24TH, 2018  
9:40AM EASTERN TIME

Soon after she learned about what Tony and Bruce were attempting to do and the success rate behind it, Wanda experienced a relief so grand that it left her sorrow dissipating just enough everyday to make it bearable. Simply the thought of someone trying on account of Vision—something that would’ve made him tear up, no doubt, because her Vizh had the smallest amount of confidence she’d ever seen a man as perfect as him have—made her heart swell because they _cared._ About her. About him. About _them._

It was nine in the morning and she sauntered over to the kitchen counter, a cup of chamomile tea lodged comfortably in her hand (it was Vision’s favorite to make for her, especially on special mornings). The common room lounge was largely empty, save for the Peter, the young boy that jumped energetically when meeting her, and the man who’s arm was of metal. She sat where Peter read a book upside down, his skinny legs swung over the spine of the grey sectional, his head hanging off the seat. He definitely was an eccentric one.

“What’re you reading?” Her eyes danced in mirth as she brought the cup to her lips.

“Oh hey!” The boy greeted enthusiastically and nearly falling on his neck. His clumsy nature, however, was drowned by the graceful way he stood upright, gently sitting back down next to her with a gentle blush streaking his cheeks at having been caught in such a compromising position. Bucky chuckled at him from the other end of the couch and continued to flip through the magazine on his lap. 

“It’s just this really cool story about this guy, who goes up to space and meets his twin sister, but he doesn’t really know they’re related yet, and realizes that the enemy of his rebel group is actually his father, and it’s just really interesting, especially in comic style. But it was originally a movie, and they’re really great, have you watched—“

“Star Wars?” She guessed, amusedly watching the younger boy scratch his nape in embarrassment. 

“Yeah, I guess you have then.” 

“Not really,” she bemused, entertaining his excitement. “Visi—my fiancé and I only got through maybe the first half of the second one.”

“Second as in like the series or the year released?” 

Wanda laughed and to her surprise, it came easily, flowing like gentle breeze through ruffling tree leaves. “I believe the year released.”

“Would you like to, I mean if you want to, of course, watch them? I have two friends coming over tonight and, obviously if you’re comfortable, you can join us? We were gonna watch those movies today anyway,” 

Bucky smiled over from where he sat and scrunched his nose, eyes still scanning the catalogs on the page before him. “You dug yourself into this one,” he teased. 

But Wanda simply laughed again (it felt so good to do that) and nodded, if only to see the boy grin widely and jump onto the couch before throwing himself off of it and scurrying to his room (Tony gave him one even though he would only be staying for a little while).

“Wanda, there you are!”

The purple of his shirt made appearance before the owner, and not long after Bruce stuck his head in through the door of wall that separated the labs and the common lounge, and beckoned her to come forward.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he smiled and it was sweet and friendly. While Wanda hadn’t known him for long, the man radiated the aura of a kind and playful soul, often the “father figure” (as Peter had once phrased it) of the group when Steve wasn’t around. 

“Yes, Doctor Banner?”

“Oh please, Bruce is fine,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Would you like to come? There are some updates you might want to hear regarding Vision.”

Wanda felt her legs carry her over to where the scientist stood, a cloud of red enveloping the mug in her hand before resting it on the countertop behind her. 

Once fully inside the laboratory she was surprised to find it empty, having expected either Tony or Steve to be bickering with the Hulk as they worked. But then again, Steve neither understood nor worked with mechanics and Tony had been spending time off with his wife, Pepper, so she wasn’t quite sure of the reason for her shock. Nonetheless, Wanda walked over to the cradle where Vision lay, her fingertips scratching against one another inside her sweater sleeves (a habit he had tried so hard to put an end to when he saw the angry and red streaks on her skin). His skull was fixed—the gaping and nightmare worthy cave in his mind was gone in exchange for another forehead, only this time without the alluring yellow glare of the Mind Stone (which was returned to his head, but inactive). Her fingers tapped the glass ever so gently and she bit her lip. He would come back to her. 

“I apologize, I don’t mean to meddle, but I overheard you mentioning Vision as your fiancé,”

Wanda snapped her eyes to his and her cheeks flushed the same shade of red that bled from her fingers. The scientist leaned backwards against a tool table, his arms crossed loosely at his chest. His eyes, however, screamed curiosity. 

“Our minds were... _connected_ when the thought of when to ask crossed his mind,” she admitted. “I pretended not to notice, to save him the sadness of not being able to make it a surprise.” She dragged her ringed forefinger over the glass above Vision’s face. “If I’m never going to hold him again, the least I can do is carry the memory.”

Bruce shook his, his generous eyed burning with purpose. “That won’t happen. We’ll fix him, I promise.”

Wanda could only smile, a quick lift of her lips, before the man continued. 

“However we do have to entertain the possibility of memory loss, whether it be temporary or permanent.”

Ah, there it was. Within her twenty-one years of life not once had fate eased her into a better year, a year where she didn’t have to fight for those she loved through teeth and blood. There was always, and she meant this to the syllable, a catch. 

“If we found each other once,” her lips quivered, contrasting the strong reverence of her voice, “we can do it again.”

Banner nodded, and she left the lab. 

—

When she walked into the common area that night, she was surprised to find more than just Peter and his friends curled on the soft cushions of the couch. 

“There she is!” A voice called and she turned, Peter jumping from the couch and jogging to where she stood. “I saved you a seat by me, if you want to sit!” 

How all of them managed to comfortably sit in such a cramped position was beyond Wanda, but Peter had saved for her a larger portion of the seat than she needed, right next to Natasha (who half sat on Cap and half on the pillows, her legs swung over his lap prompting Sam and Bucky to wink knowingly at the two every once in a while) and Peter, who was situated beside his two friends. Faces that, unsurprisingly, were staring in awe at her. She felt a shy wave tickle her cheeks. 

“Hi,” she waved awkwardly. The girl raised a hand, and it took Wanda admittedly a few seconds to recognize that she wanted to shake it. 

“My friends call me MJ,” she said, the right side of her face illuminated by the static that ran in jagged lines on the TV screen. 

“Wanda,” she returned, shaking the younger girl’s softer, smaller hand. An excited sparkle twinkled in her eyes before she turned to the movie and jabbed Peter with her elbow. 

“Just start it already, loser.”

She would later be told by Peter that she was, by some miracle, MJ’s favorite Avenger, and that being “on a first name basis” with “practically her celebrity crush” made her “brain short circuit” (all his words). A proud wave surged over her heart and she settled further into the avengers plushies around her with a toothy grin. 

 

JUNE 29TH, 2018  
2:09AM EASTERN TIME

The nightmares and restlessness, while they’d decreased significantly in number, had grown in intensity. 

Sometimes she’d wake to the feel of his arms around her, the streaks where vibranium met skin a mixture of cool metal and supple warmth, trailing goosebumps up her spine. Other nights she’d startle to the tingle of his mind, organized and ever so inviting, prodding hers gently in recognized intimacy. 

Whatever the dream ended up being, however, it always ended the same. 

She always cried. 

 

JULY 4TH, 2018  
5:55AM EASTERN TIME

The rush of being awoken that morning was akin to the chaos of preparing for a battle, Steve running from room to room banging pots and pans to get everyone up and running before the sun had even peaked through the horizon. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of him to be so loud and demanding but alas, this was practically his holiday to hold.

“Happy America Day!” He shouted through the halls. “Happy fourth of July!”

“Mr.Rog—Captain, shouldn’t we wake up when, you know, the rest of the country has too?”

Wanda found herself chuckling sleepily as Peter’s voice echoed from the room adjacent to hers. The young boy, so naive, was one of her favorite people to “hang out with,” his jovial mannerisms always a delight in a time where even a rainbow reminded her of the thunder that came before it.

“No Mr.Parker,” Steve mimicked the nickname, and she could practically see the grin on his face. “Today is a special day, as you may have noticed, and it is my duty as Captain America to make sure my beloved Avengers are ready for the festivities.”

“But it’s barely _six in the morning, Rogers._ ” Another person groaned angrily, and she could just barely catch the slumber-filled lilt to Natasha’s impeccable American accent. 

“Doesn’t matter! Up you go!” A grunt, and later a surprised laugh that fluttered like butterflies in simmering sunlight. Frankly, Wanda didn’t want to imagine what warranted the reaction from the Black Widow, but she laughed nonetheless. 

It was days like this that restored her faith in a happy future. A future that, hopefully, involved a certain android.

—

Later that day (or more accurately night) all the avengers and friends sat in the large yard of their compound and watch Steve prepare the fireworks.

There were some new faces amidst her friends, one sorcerer named “Doctor Strange” accompanied by the much revered T’Challa, his wife, and the Wakandan general. The barbecue was sizzling in the background as Clint and Natasha joked about sweet nothings, the archer tending to the food whereas the assassin, no help whatsoever to her best friend, was sitting with her feet propped on the stool beside her. 

Sam and Bucky were hesitantly trying to make sure that Cap didn’t accidentally send himself flying along with the fireworks in his excitement, Bucky’s laughter booming through the yard. The scientists stood chatting in the back accompanied by two Asgardians, Tony and Bruce teasing about the Odin brothers’ tendency to dramatize any and every event. 

Everything was fine in the cluster of voices until someone shouted a frenzied “ _everybody down!”_ and Wanda was pushed forcefully to the ground by Natasha. 

When glass stopped raining and Wanda was able to see the commotion, all she could make out was Bruce running hurriedly up the stairs to where VIsion’s cradle was kept before falling into the comfort of a deep slumber.

—

When she woke up, she wasn’t surprised to find Natasha nursing an ice pack on her forehead in possibly the most minimal clothing she’d seen her in, bandages wrapped around where Wanda assumed the glass hit her back. 

“Nat?” She croaked, and immediately the woman’s eyes shot up to meet her own. 

“Wanda, how do you feel?”

“Good, but,” Wanda gave a worried smile, “guilty, I suppose. Why did you cover me?” 

The assassin scoffed before giving her an incredulous look. “Stop feeling bad. It’s my job to protect those I love,” she reminded with a loving wink. Wanda simply swallowed, but found her friend’s hand nonetheless, giving it a thankful squeeze.

“Guys, it’s Vision,” Tony called, and the Scarlet Witch didn’t waste a minute to shooting straight up, the dull aching of her body forgotten as she scurried upstairs. 

When she ran into the lab, Vision was backed into the corner room much like a wild animal, the Mind Stone blindingly bright and his eyes calculating and cold and very, very afraid.

“Vision?”

His empty eyes pierced into hers and she could’ve sworn her heart shattered into a million and one pieces, but she didn’t let go of his gaze.

“Who are you?” His voice was eerily calm and questioning. Hostile. Wanda gulped down the tears that strangled her words.

“Your fiancé, I’m your fiancé Vizh.” As confidently as she could, she inched closer and just the fact that he didn’t do anything to move from her grasp made her chest heave in heavy breaths. He was quiet for a few moments, and slowly, very slowly, the red of his crimson skin seeped into his arms and legs, and his iris’ reappeared behind the cloud of white.

She had never been happier to see the gears of his pupils turning.

“W-Wanda?”

“Yes, that’s right,”

“Maximoff?”

“Yes, oh god, _yes_ ,” she sighed.

He paused, and as his familiar smile returned to his lips she let a sob rack her shoulders. 

“My love.”


	5. a child's heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on a mission to the war-torn outskirts of Sokovia, Wanda and Vision find a small child in the rubble. Vision finds that taking care of the young boy comes more naturally than he would originally have assumed.
> 
> aka Wanda and Vision get a taste of parent life.
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

The world was quiet for a long time after the Wars. Exhausted by the struggle of trying to replace the planet back into the safest hands they knew (that being the Avengers) both good and evil laid dormant for months on end, stirring up little to no trouble to let the mighty heroes rest. 

But as no good thing ever did, the silence didn’t last, and soon enough the tired Avengers found themselves running from destination to destination in an attempt to ease the political tension that had risen between nations, anger and distaste expressed in the form of red-nosed missiles.

On a particularly nasty mission on the outskirts of where Sokovia and its bordering neighbors met, a gunfight that had a bit too much arsenal was erupting in small cascades of yellow fire. Steve had purposefully refrained from calling Wanda but she persisted, silently refusing to leave Vision’s side even as he entered the Quinjet to depart. He didn’t question it because he knew there was no point in trying to convince her of not going when her mind was already set, and so he simply brought her hand to his face, and kissed her knuckles. 

Now, Vision searched and searched but couldn’t find the wisp of scarlet amongst the freshly fallen rubble, and he began to wonder if maybe he should’ve convinced her to stay home (or at least gave an attempt to). In the distance, he could hear the echo of bullet shells hitting the concrete and the unmistakable _clang!_ of the Captain’s shield hitting whatever it did hard enough to knock a legion to its knees. The Falcon and War Machine reigned fire from the sky and somewhere in the backdrop, Clint’s arrows tore through the stale air and yet he couldn’t detect the Scarlet Witch anywhere. Vision swiftly deflected the punch of one of the men and noticed that he was beginning to get very, very worried. 

“Anybody have eyes on Wanda?” The Captain’s voice was drenched in static, but nonetheless a collective “no” echoed back and Vision felt his synthetic blood run cold. 

Another brave soul flung his entire body at the android with knives in his hands and screamed when the Avenger reflexively phased through him, running off into the rubble. 

Before he could contemplate shouting her name amidst the raining stone, he heard a whimper—too light to be Wanda’s, but a whimper nonetheless. Concerned, he turned the corner and was equally shocked and relieved at the scene before him. 

Wanda, with a mist of red encasing nearly the entirety of a falling building, huddled protectively over a small child, the latter sobbing quietly against his fiancé. 

“Wanda!”

She looked up, her arms trembling above her, her eyes blazing a sharp crimson outlined by the bags under her eyes. Her complexion had paled significantly, and the beads of sweat rolling down her creased forehead mixed with the tears of the little boy who clung to her like his life depended on it. Which, it really did. 

She could barely whisper his name before her arms fell heavily and the building, free from the unseen hexes of Wanda, toppled down on top of them. Without thinking Vision phased forward, catching Wanda before raising his hand. As his fingertips grazed the cobblestone the structure growled angrily and split in half, barely touching the figures beneath it. They were safe.

When the others found them (honestly it wasn’t hard, they just followed the explosion of stone) Vision was standing with not only an unconscious Wanda, but also a crying boy hoisted in his arms. 

“What happened, V?” Natasha questioned, moving to help him carry the two people by at least relieving him of the child. But he wouldn’t let go, gripping Vision’s collar and absolutely, utterly petrified. Natasha backed away so as to not frighten the boy anymore, and Vision shrugged as best as he could.

“I believe Wanda was, _consoling,_ the child when the building’s foundation collapsed,” he began, uncertain but simply anxious to get back to the jet. “I’m not quite sure, but we mustn’t stay here any longer, at least not while Wanda is unconscious.” Steve didn’t need to ask anything more to aid them towards the vehicle. 

Inside, the boy still wouldn’t let go of the android’s neck. Not that he minded—while he didn’t have too much experience with children besides the Bartons, he didn’t wish to disturb what little comfort the boy must have found in Vision by removing himself from him. So the young child clung to him as he lowered Wanda to one of the seats, leaving her side only to retrieve medical supplies to tend to her wounds. 

Normally he would’ve been incredibly uncomfortable in such a situation, but as the child sniffed into the crook of his neck, he realized how natural it felt. Vision didn’t know if it was because of the adrenaline still pumping through his veins or because of how much the child looked like the little Wanda and Visions that ran through his dreams, but nonetheless carried him with the utmost gentleness and not a single string of anxious thought in his mind. 

After Wanda (and the rest of the crew) were all cared for and resting, Vision kindly excused himself from the room and disappeared into the bathroom, Natasha’s eyes worriedly trailing after his yellow cape.

Tony was admittedly right in having a small (minuscule, really) bath installed within the jet for rides that would take long, primarily so that the members wouldn’t have to sit in sweat and dust for all of the hours they’d be in air. Vision walked there slowly, so as to not jostle the resting boy in his arms, and opened the hot water. He watched the steam rise before cooling the water momentarily and stepped in, carrying the boy in tow. 

He stripped the child of his outer garments and left him in his underwear to not overstep his comfort, and dipped him into the warm water. Immediately, the soot and dust began to clear and Vision could clearly see the small cuts on his arms, rubbing gently on the sore areas to alleviate at least some of the young boy’s pain. 

It was quiet, save for the fading whimpers of the child and the occasional soothing words of Vision as he softly washed his young friend. 

“Vizh?”

He looked up, surprised to see Wanda up so quickly.

“Wanda,” he smiled, and the boy didn’t show any distress as Wanda sat by the small tub, her head on her hand. Vision leaned out just enough to accept her kiss on his red skin. “How are you faring, my love?”

“Better,” she shrugged, and flicked some water towards the distracted child who, for the first time since boarding the ship with them, gave something that just barely resembled a giggle. “My head feels like it’ll hurt for a while but other than that, I feel fine,”

“That’s good.” He paused momentarily. “Could you pass the towel?”

It took the two of them mere seconds to have the now more jovial boy to be bundled in towels and into one of Tony’s spare sweaters, which was too big for his tiny frame, but he looked comfortable nonetheless. In less than an hour of originally leaving, the group returned to the main “room” of the jet. 

“Is that…my sweater?” Tony asked, amusement and just the trace of longing dancing in his eyes. Vision nodded, giving a kind smile that never failed to trip Wanda’s heartbeat.

“He looks cozy,” Natasha commented, scrunching her nose playfully and the child shyly buried his head into Vision’s chest, Sam looking up from where he was lazily laying on the seats to laugh. 

“He likes you, V,” he mumbled before letting his head fall back to the seat. From across the Falcon, the Captain chuckled deeply. 

“He does, and even better is that Rhodey and I found a bomb shelter in central Sokovia that has his parents, apparently they lost him during the frenzy to evacuate,” he said, running his fingers thoughtfully against his fuzzy chin (Since the Wars Natasha hadn’t let him shave fully, something about the scraping feeling good, in which Wanda began to shout and cover her ears). 

“That’s great,” Wanda sighed in relief, her fingers intertwining with Vision’s free hand. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if we left him without anyone.”

“We wouldn’t have done that,” Vision reminded, gently squeezing her hand in a silent promise. Wanda fought her tears because this child, with his peach complexion and short height, was just a few years shy of how old Wanda was when she was orphaned. And if the same fate fell upon another one of her people but this time by her own hand, she didn’t think she could live with it.

For the rest of the rather short plane ride, Wanda and Vision sat side by side, the boy balanced between them and sleeping soundly. Vision looked down at them, a child in his arms and his fiancé beside him, and wondered if he could ever be happier.


	6. all eyes on vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four times that the world couldn't take their eyes off of a certain android, much to Wanda's amusement. (aka Vision is oblivious to just how attractive he is).
> 
> feel free to add comments as they're much appreciated!

**ONE**

It was Tony’s idea to have a pool party, and if you were to take a sweep around the compound, you’d find that absolutely nobody, not a single soul, was complaining about missing a day of training in exchange for a refreshing swim. 

The pool was installed shortly after everyone had moved back into the headquarters, but due to the chaos of the quite grueling combat sessions that Natasha and Steve had been putting the entire team through, no one had the time to really exploit it. The tarp was still over the cool water, Vision and Tony standing over it trying to figure out the best way to set up for the get-together.

“We could just put the tables back there, have some snacks be brought in and just go all out, you know,” he said. Vision smiled, crossing his arms. 

“That would be perfect, Mr.Stark. This is, after all, a long awaited rest for the team,”

Tony nodded, chuckling as he nudged the tarp with his foot. “That it is, V. That it is.”

It didn’t take long for Wanda and Natasha to return from the market raid that they’d embarked on, practically stripping the nearest Albertsons of their entire snack aisle. As they ran in, Wanda swore she saw Steve get dizzy when he saw them giggling as they carried bag after bag of chips and chocolates and anything else that had the capability of putting them into a sugar coma. Sam and Thor followed close behind, carrying all the drinks.

And so at approximately three forty-five, five hours after initially suggesting to have the party, Tony stepped onto the nearest lawn chair, clad in his finest swimsuit (which were unsurprisingly Iron Man themed), and cleared his throat. With a loud “cowabunga!” the man (child really) catapulted himself into the silky water and laughed as everyone within a four-foot radius became dowsed in water. 

“Let the party begin!”

Wanda sat by the girls, Pepper and Maria conversing about the stupidity of man whereas Natasha hunched over in cackling guffaws, pointing at Steve’s entrance. Just like Tony, his (impressively tight) swim trunks sporting a giant Captain America shield picture right where his backside rested. Natasha crumbled in amusement. 

“Hey there, Captain Ass,” she called, whistling, and everyone clapped when he bowed.

“I couldn’t let Tony be the only one with some spirit,” he winked, before completing a perfect dive into the water. 

Natasha scoffed. “Showoff.”

Wanda smiled, her eyes searching the backyard for a certain someone that had suspiciously not arrived yet. Before she could question his absence, however, Sam lowered his glasses and hooted towards the door, drawing everyones attention. 

“ _Damn_ , V!”

Wanda was, to put it best, astounded to see Vision step outside in bright yellow swim trunks (which were still tight for his fit form) and a sure, mischievous look settled in his eyes. When he moved, the fabric of his swim ware strained with the muscles of his thighs, outlining them so perfectly under the golden sunlight. Interlocking trails of vibranium stood vibrantly against his rich, red skin, curving with the rise of his chest and unmissable abdomen muscles. Wanda had to make a mental check not to drool into her drink. 

“I do hope I’m not too late in joining you?” 

In her shock, she hadn’t noticed that he was standing right in front of her, a grin plastered on those _perfect_ lips. 

“I—No, of course not!” She stuttered. It was funny how, even though she’d seen (and touched) his body in its full glory, the absolute confidence with which he strode around made her breath stop in desire. 

“That’s good,” he whispered, amused at her gaping mouth. Stealing a kiss from the corner of her lips he backed away, pointing to the refreshments table. 

“I believe I would like to try some ‘lemonade’ today; would any of you like anything?” 

“Water is fine, Vizh,” she smiled, a sad attempt to hide the erratic beating of her heart. He bowed his head, and walked towards the others.

“I mean I know you said he was hot, but _this,_ ” Maria said, bringing a bottle of sprite to her lips. “This is something else altogether!”

A small, minuscule spurt of jealousy bloomed in her chest but Wanda nodded in agreement. 

“I told you,” she said. 

From across the lawn, Vision joked with the boys, Rhodey and Sam playfully bumping his side with their elbows, Thor throwing an arm over his wide shoulders to bring him closer. She could just barely hear Cap yelling _“damn boys, just get into the water!”_ before everyone was pushed rather violently into the pool by Tony, who had somehow gotten out and circled behind them while everyone gushed about Vision’s body.

When they resurfaced and she took sight of the water dripping off his back, Natasha whistled and Wanda choked on her drink, making a mental note (a promise really) to put him into his swim trunks later that night—if only to get a chance to tear them off.

 

 **TWO**  

The charity event wasn’t supposed to last as long as it did, but neither Wanda nor any of the other Avengers were really complaining—the small animals were incredibly fun to cuddle and play with anyway, and if anything it helped with her anxiety. 

As closing time drew closer, Wanda sat up to go look for Vision so that they could find a place to eat before heading home. When she turned the corner of the small room of the even smaller pet shelter, she saw him sitting on the ground with a small pup in his arms, watching it intently as it licked his face. The whole scene was too adorable to disturb, but clearly the two girls who were approaching him from the other side of the room didn’t appear to think so. 

“Hey, you’re like, the Vision aren’t you?” One asked and he slowly stood, the puppy lodged in the crook of his elbow as he gave a small smile. 

“Yes I am.”

Vision missed the almost hungry way the two glanced his body up and down, his biceps stretching the fabric of his dress shirt with their mass and shape, his pants a perfect (a little too much so) fit. They were practically drooling. 

“You must be so strong, being an Avenger is probably not an easy thing to be.”

Vision nodded, his hand scratching the pup’s head fondly. “I do have a set of powers that usually aid me in combat.”

“That’s super cool, especially how you can just, you know, become invisible and pass through stuff and all,” the other said, a playful smirk playing on her lips. Wanda felt uneasy at the prowl-like stance they took, but didn’t have the heart to intervene—she didn’t want to steal Vision from the bliss of interacting with locals that he loved so much simply because of what she assumed to be jealousy.

“Oh I do not actually turn invisible,” he began, a touch of excitement in his voice at the prospect of being interested in. “I simply readjust my density and molecules to phase through matter.”

The two girls looked at each other and again Wanda felt a kick in her heart as she sank a little further into the wall, contemplating on whether or not she should let him be. 

“So, you can change your density at will?” The first one said, and if Wanda wasn’t already sick she would be now with the suggestive themes dripping like thick honey from the girl’s tongue. 

“Precisely. I can make myself lighter or heavier as I wish.”

Giggling followed the innocent comment and Wanda’s feet seemed to move on their own, turning to fully round the wall and approach her fiancé and the aforementioned intruders. Before she could make herself known however, one of them grazed his chest, ever so gentle, and Wanda was frozen in place. 

“You know you’re like, super handsome right?”

Now, Vision was uncomfortable. “I—I suppose so,” he gulped, trying to wriggle away from her touch. But she persisted, inching a step closer until she was practically flush against him. “I never gave much thought to it.”

“And you’ve got, like a really nice body. Your muscles are just, exquisite,” she breathed, and if she were any closer their lips would be touching. 

Tears prickled uncomfortably behind Wanda’s eyes and suddenly she couldn’t see straight, sent dizzy with the overwhelming feeling of worthlessness that haunted her for as long as she could remember. Unwanted, undesired, because who could ever love a broken, shattered soul like hers when a walking bombshell outshined her so easily? Her shoulders slumped, and she got ready to turn away when Vision’s voice echoed through the hall. 

“I appreciate your interest, but I would be incredibly delighted if you would please remove yourself from my person. I must find my fiancé and head home—being an Avenger, as you so correctly pointed out, is no measly task.”

And with that, he confidently phased through the girl’s body, and walked out. When he stepped into the hall, Wanda greeted him with a kiss so fervent he almost fell through the floor, his mind and body lit aflame with adoration. Pulling away, she gently hit his chest. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, smiling softly up at him. Vision just about melted. 

“Come,” he whispered, taking her hand in his free one and walked out of the shelter. Wanda laughed beside him. 

“Vizh,” she started, but he continued walking, dragging her along, clearly lost in thought. 

“Honey,” she tried again, but to no avail. Amused, Wanda stopped walking, grinning as he turned around confused. 

“What is it, love?”

She pointed to his arm, where the pup was happily trying to deliver warm kisses to his face. For a moment he didn’t seem to understand, and then his eyes grew abnormally large in panic and he all but ran back into the shelter, Wanda trailing close behind. 

“Ma’am!” A woman looked up from the cages, observing their entrance. “I apologize, I seem to have accidentally walked off with your canine in distraction—please, take him before I forget again,”

The old lady gave them a warm chuckle, her shaking fingers pushing his hand back to him. 

“You seem to like him almost as much as he likes you,” she pulled out a small collar from behind the main desk, handing it gingerly to Wanda. “Consider him my wedding gift to you two. Please, take care and be safe, children.”

Wanda smiled thankfully at the woman. “We will.”

 

**THREE**

If there was anything that Wanda didn’t like as much as being away from Vision, it was being away from him while he was on a solo case. Cap had assured her that it would take, at the very most, around a week or so for the covert operation to be over, but that didn’t stop her from calling him every hour of every day he was gone.   
 ****

Today was no different. After three rings, he answered the phone, his pale human facade illuminated by silver moonlight.

“Hello, my love,” he whispered, the softest of smiles twitching on his lips. 

“Hey,” she sniffled, pulling her legs closer to her chest. “How’s the mission going?”

Poor connection paused his face momentarily before he flipped the camera to show the small room he was situated in, his face reappearing after a few moments with a shrug. 

“Good, but I miss you. And our bed. And our dog.”

She laughed through hidden tears. “We miss you very much too, Vizh. How long do you have left?”

Slowly he let his eyes travel upward, calculating. “A day or two, give or take. I don’t want to be here any longer, as the very foundation of this operation makes me uneasy.”

She shifted, curiosity biting at her mind like a termite to wood. “How so?”

“It’s just, this is a hotel that is just above a brothel in eastern France,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can never seem to get in or out without being followed and it has become extraordinarily irritating. Not to mention, it doesn’t help that the leader of the cartel is suspected to be one of the prostitutes.”

Unsurprisingly, her heart sank a bit, imagining the countless (undressed) women that flocked a handsome man like Vision, him awkwardly trying to deflect their advances. 

“I—“

“Hold on,” he whispered, sudden and sharp, and then the line was cut. Panicked, she shot from the bed towards the common lounge, yelling _“Vision might need back up”_ as she passed Cap and Sam. They were up within seconds. 

In the operation room (which Sam had so conveniently decided to call it) Wanda sat in the nearest seat, grabbing a headset and connecting to Vision’s. Once online, she could just barely make out gunfire. 

“Vizh?” She called as Cap connected the screen before them to the minuscule camera each of them had to take whenever they were on a solo mission. Vision’s clicked on, and she could see a promiscuous woman approaching him, a gun to the side of his head preventing a bloodless escape. 

“Vision what’s going on?” Cap spoke into his headset, but the android stood quietly, his arms raised in the air. 

Drowning in static, the woman spoke up. 

“Mister Anderson,” she began, his faux name tangled sensually in her mouth. “Take a seat.”

He did so without fight, the camera on his sweater leveling with the woman who inched closer to him, comfortably straddling his lap. Wanda unthinkingly clenched her jaw. 

“You’re quite the man, aren’t you,” she whispered, a finger trailing suggestively down his chest. “I like a man with fire.”

Cooly, Vision’s own voice echoed back. “Then you must have the wrong man, mademoiselle, for fire is the last thing that I am.”

She laughed but it sounded more like a moan than an expression of amusement, Cap and Sam turning to inadvertently look at Wanda. She continued staring at the screen, her fingers emitting a vengeful red mist as she tapped them against the table in distraction, though it didn’t help when the woman leaned in to place a kiss somewhere on Vision’s face off camera. 

He hissed, the camera shaking a little as the android struggled against the woman. When she pulled away, Wanda could see her lipstick was smudged. 

“Vision, can you find a way out of there?” Cap said, but once again Vision stayed silent, speaking not to Cap but to the lady before him. 

“If this is your attempt at courtship, it’s sad.” With a swift movement, Vision phased through the gun held against his head, knocking the guard unconscious within seconds. He turned to the woman, his voice deeper and eerily emotionless. “Oh, and next time, remember that only my wife can kiss me.”

She looked incredulously at him from her place cornered against the wall, shadowed by Vision’s looming height. 

“You’re not Mister Anderson.” She spat. “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say, you won’t be trafficking girls in your free time anymore.” With that final note, the android put the chloroform wad against her nostrils, and she was out before Wanda could recover from her shock. From the screen, Wanda saw him lift up her shirt, a giant tattoo of a butterfly peaking back from her skin. He tapped his earpiece, and the microphone cackled to life. 

“Sorry Cap, I had to make sure she was the one before making a move; we might not have gotten this chance again.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, eyes wide with surprise at his confidence in dealing with such events. “I, no yeah, it’s fine,” he stuttered, glancing at Sam who grinned. 

“Way to go, V,”

Vision chuckled before clearing his throat. “Can I come home to my fiancé now?” He asked, and Cap laughed, agreeing to his request with a breathy “yeah, of course.”

Wanda sagged against the desk, and the gentlest thought brushed against her mind; logical, organized, and wholly adorable. 

_I love you, Wanda._

 

 **FOUR**  

Going on their weekly walks in the busy streets of New York City was always the highlight of Wanda’s week, and often times she found herself sitting impatiently for the clock to (finally) strike four so that Vision could join her by the door, and they could head out. 

This week was no different, her fingers lodged comfortably in Vision’s, who was singing their interlocked hands and laughing about the sweet nothings that accompanied their settling and stabilizing lifestyles. For a moment she observed his carefree smile, the way his eyes twinkled in happiness at recalling the way one of the children at the school he visited had rushed up to him, chanting “you’re my favorite! you’re my favorite!” To think that this was the same man that would stray from showing himself in public was a fun thought to entertain, and Wanda felt a swell of pride rush to her chest. She was so proud of how far they’d come. 

“Wanda, would you like to have some tea? I heard about a splendid teahouse not too far from our current location that I think you’d find appealing,” he had stopped walking and looked at her now, a small smile on his lips and the question burning in the air around them. She pursed her lips in faux thought, before mirroring his grin and leaning towards his warm, tall body.

“Lead the way, Mr.Maximoff.”

Vision dipped his head, placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “As you wish, Mrs.Maximoff.”

The walk wasn’t long, and Wanda was relieved to find the teahouse, for the most part, empty. Looking around, Wanda had to give Vision the credit he deserved; the interior was incredibly aesthetically beautiful, a wide assortment of plants hanging from the exposed wooden beams. She inhaled, the sweet aroma of ginger and black tea wafting deliciously into her nose. Suddenly the chill of the October air didn’t cut into her bones so harshly. 

When they reached the register (which, with the five or so people inside took only a few minutes) Vision excitedly turned to his wife. Wanda smiled at him and turned to the girl, pointing to their hibiscus and lemon daily special. 

“I’ll just have that, please.”

The girl nodded, and Vision gave his own order of a simple black tea with honey. Though Wanda was distracted by the serenity spilling from every corner of the room, the heat making her a happy, warm bundle, she didn’t miss how it took the barista a moment longer to write Vision’s order on his cup than it did on hers.

“Your order will be ready at the end of the aisle. Thank you for coming!”

Vision put a hand on the small of her back, a tingling sensation traveling up her spine upon the touch, a giddiness that never faded from the first time he allowed himself to touch her freely. 

When Vision went to pick up their drinks, she felt him pause mid-lean, the tension crawling up to bother even Wanda. She turned, and saw what he was looking at. In fading sharpie, his paper cup beheld a scribbled number and smiley-face where the order should’ve been written. From across the cafe, she could just barely make out the barista’s wink to Vision.

“Um,” he awkwardly gave Wanda her own cup, his eyebrows creased while looking at his own. Clearly, he was uncomfortable at the prospect of being flirted with, literally right next to his wife, no less.

Wanda had to stifle her laughter. “Hey Vizh, it’s ok,” she said, a giggle escaping her throat. For the first time in a while, she didn’t feel the suppressed bubble of anxiety and misplaced jealousy rise in the pit of her stomach. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d give you my number too,” she teased. 

Vision visibly relaxed at that, and they made their way to the door, the android pointedly putting his arm around his wife’s waist to remind the world that he was, in fact, taken. 


End file.
